


observations of nothings

by impishgraph



Category: Original Work
Genre: Poetry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:54:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25583203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impishgraph/pseuds/impishgraph
Summary: assorted poems
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	1. silverfish

have your eyes caught

on the prickly stripes of a silverfish

have they given thanks

that such a beauteous gift

was created

out of the fabric of our universe

or is it a fleeting thought

unappreciated

and unadored

as you hunt it down

it runs

just to be crushed soft

beneath your slippered foot

a swatch of pulp

on sepia floors

that marks the last

of failed attempts at surviving you

i am that silverfish

the gravity of my feelings shadowing over me

until my love for you is killed


	2. art museums

unique is the ideal

for which i have always reached

it shows

in the way i sit too long

in front of paintings

at a museum

begging to be observed

and thought of as something special

or cultured

to resist moving so long

as to drink it in further

i have sat so long

that i have picked out the intricacies 

and want to sit

for time not driven 

by wanting to be unique


	3. high

I'M CLIPPING IN AND OUT OF

THE FABRIC OF THE UNIVERSE

I CLIP INTO A CHIP

I CLIP INTO ANOTHER AMERICAN STATE

I BURN DEEP IN MY CHEST PLATE

MY PALM RUNS TOO WARM BLOOD-WISE

I'M SWALLOWING GUAVA JUICE THAT

FEELS LIKE A SMOOTH STONE DROPPING


	4. to speak

i like to speak

when i know how people listen

when i know how it soothes

the fear brimming 

in the ones existing so near

the feel of words inside my mouth

round and soft

gentle on my teeth

and gums

and tongue

careful

even around

the wisdom

poking through the pink within

do i hate to speak

because i fear the mistakes 

i have always stuttered

into existence

or because

the pitch is unmatched

different

from what i wish could be spoken

and i hate what will never be

perhaps

i hate to speak

because of the saliva

that flows with heavy hand

and pools in chubby cheeks

but it does not quench the thirst

it remains sour and bitter

much like things left unspoken


	5. you will never

you will never hold their hand again

never cradle their face with your palms

and grace their brow with a kiss

you will never stand close together on the subway

or listen to music from one set of earbuds

you won't go to their house and play with their cats

or watch the train hurtle by 

on the tracks below their apartment complex

you won't listen to the low rumble

of their voice in the morning

or play with their hair at night

you won't listen to their records

scritch scratching on the turntable

or hear the electric shock of their guitar

and eventually

you will become the person you were without them again


	6. existentialism (or is it?)

continue existing for

the way your best friend's hand feels in yours

the way the sun shines into the trees

the way the dimples in your loved one's cheek creases

the way you kiss good night

continue existing for

the way your nails gleam oh so prettily in the light

the way a windy open road feels

the way the sun rises and sets

the way you know the comfort of the friends you have made

continue existing for

the way your heart swells when you see your friends succeed

the way a cold glass of water quenches your thirst

the way the apple of your friend's cheeks glow

the way you breathe life into the world


End file.
